The New Girl
by Inkyfingers2
Summary: AU. Nick Miller works for a small publishing company and is not on board the welcoming train when the new hire, Jessica Day, arrives. His ire only increases when he's paired up with her to revitalize the stagnant Pepperwood series. They clash in every way and secrets come to light that Nick never wanted to reveal.
1. Chapter 1

_Nick_

He's not sure why he's being such a dick to the new girl in the office. Sure some people might describe him as an asshole, he's even heard 'grumpy old-man Miller' thrown around; but he's not an outright mean person. He just doesn't put up with a lot of crap. No-nonsense, that's a better way to describe him. He has relatively civil relationships with most of his co-workers; doesn't balk at buying a round of beers at happy hour, and yeah he's slept with a few of the females, even dated one for a while (before she turned out to be a crazy she-devil from the darkest pits of hell…who thankfully left the company shortly after their third break-up). He'll help out a colleague with little to no hesitation and he's an overall chill guy.

…Apparently all that goes out the window when it comes to her. Since day one he's given her a hard time, responding in clipped answers to her questions, silently rejecting any attempts she makes at small-talk, sometimes even blatantly ignoring her…and yet she seems unfazed by it all.

There's just something about her that gets under his skin. Maybe it's the pastries or whatever she makes and leaves in the communal kitchen all the time (the 'holy shit this is the most delicious piece of confectionery heaven I've ever had in my mouth' pastries). Or the way she's happy every single morning (how is it possible to be that perky at 8:30am) and seems to brighten up the office and everyone around with her presence. Or the way she softly hums under her breath when she's making copies…the fact that it was a Jim Croce song, one of his favorite musicians of all time (how the hell does she know Jim Croce…) should have endeared her to him, instead it disgruntled him further (Jim Croce is _his_ thing).

Maybe it's the smile that lifts her lips whenever she makes eye contact with him. It's a weird smile that does weird things to him. A sort of secret smile…like she knows something he doesn't. Whatever it is, he doesn't like it and he's suspicious of it. No one is that nice without motivation. Everyone else in the office obviously adores her and give him a hard time for not being the welcoming smiley clown they want him to be. When he brings up his theories of her possible office manipulations, he's usually met with disbelief, an exasperated, "Dude, seriously?" or just outright laughter.

He sighs loudly, refocusing on the meeting he's supposed to be an active participate in. Leaning back heavily into his chair, he brings his hands up to rest on the back of his head. Leo is droning on about the latest batch of prospective big hit novels when he sees the new girl through the glass wall of the conference room walking among the rows of cubicles. She's wearing a frilly polka dot blouse with a teal sweater (that he noticed definitely does _not_ pick up the darker specks of blue in her eyes when he nearly ran into her that morning as he was leaving the kitchen with a full mug of coffee…her eyes wide and apologetic as she helped clean the ensuing spillage…he had grabbed the soiled paper towels from her hand and left without a word, fighting the enormous sense of guilt at having almost burned her with the scalding liquid).

She stops at Sanders' desk, resting her elbows on the cubicle top, her right hand dangling with a sheet of paper. She says something to the goof and laughs softly at his response. Sanders, the idiot. Does he think he has a shot with this girl? No chance.

"Miller."

She's smiling down at the guy in a way that makes him clench his jaw and look away. After a beat, he cools his expression and looks back to find she's staring directly at him. Without taking her eyes off of him, she hands Sanders the paper she was carrying and her lips lift into that mysterious smile she's given him since day one.

"Miller."

He can't take his eyes away from her. There's a stirring in his stomach that he's going to attribute to hunger…even though he ate 20 minutes ago.

"Miller!"

He jerks in his chair, the spell between them broken.

"Yep. Yeah, Leo?"

"I want you to focus your energy on the Pepperwood series. And bring some new blood in, take the new girl, Jess, under your wing. Get her familiar. Let's see what you two come up with."

_Wait. What?_

"Leo, you gotta be kidding me," he brings his arms down to rest both elbows on the conference table. "Pepperwood is mine."

"Don't fight me on this, Miller. She's got talent and I'm interested to see what you two could produce."

Nick can only watch in dumbfounded silence as Leo dismisses the meeting and inane conversation picks up among his departing colleagues. He glances to his right to see if Jess is still standing by Sanders' desk but sees nothing. Rising quickly, he grits his teeth as he makes his way to Leo's office.

"Leo, listen, it's not gonna wor-" as he says this, Leo gets up from his desk with a phone to his ear.

"On the phone, Miller. Not changing my mind. Get it done."

With that Nick is met with a cold breeze to the face as Leo slams his door shut. Groaning, he rubs at his eyes in frustration, dragging his fingers down across the stubble coating his jawline.

"Hey Nick!"

Nick hunches in on himself, closing his eyes, he quickly tries to come up with a way out of the current situation. _I have doctors….my dog is….on a conference meeting call…with Asia….documents….no habla anglais…she knows you speak English, idiot._

"I hear we're gonna be working together," the enthusiasm is practically bursting from her.

He realizes he should probably face her eventually. Spinning slowly he finally meets her eyes and something inside him tightens as her face splits into a full toothy grin.

"When do you want to get started?" She asks.

"Jess…this isn't…" _gonna happen…you can't…I have 2 weeks to live…relocating my aunt…secret spy for the government…_

Her wide blue eyes dart between his dark brown ones and her smile falls slightly. Releasing a heavy breath, he finally relents.

"Be in my office in twenty."

He turns away from her, thinking only of the flask he has stashed in his desk. He makes it five steps before his head involuntarily glances back at her.

She's still standing where he left her, watching him with that closed-mouth secret smile on her face.

* * *

_AN: Here's another fic that was originally posted on tumbler but was requested to be posted here as well. To see the photo/gifs associated with each chapter please check out my profile. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Jess_

He's got a very twitchy mouth, she notices. It's like he's constantly fighting against what his mouth wants to do. On a deeper level, it's more like his mouth's first instinct is to react with emotional honesty but then his brain catches up and tries to hide that emotion.

She knew he was a guarded guy from the moment she met him. But she learned that if you wanted to know what his true emotional reaction was to an event or conversation, look at his mouth. He'll fool you with his eyes. He has a very heavy-lidded look like he's constantly half-bored with what you're saying and at the same time he's half seducing you, because he knows he can.

She thinks the boredom aspect is legit.

* * *

"I am so excited!"

They're on their way to meet with Tran, the world-famous Fantasy-Detective novelist and the first writer to ever successfully combine the detective genre with the fantasy world. "Julius Pepperwood: Zombie Detective," is one of the longest running series in the book world today. Jess would devour every new book the moment it hit shelves since she was a teenager and now she's about to meet the author. It's beyond thrilling for her.

She also loves his name. No last name or first initial, just 'Tran.' It's very Madonna or Sting. She wonders if Tran is even his real name.

"Listen, Jess, just let me do the talking. Tran doesn't do conversation, ok?" Nick is gripping the steering wheel with his left hand so tightly his knuckles are white and he keeps rubbing his right hand down over his mouth and chin compulsively.

"Yep, ok, no problemo." She doesn't understand why he seems so nervous. He's been the only one working with Tran for the past ten years; pretty much the moment he joined the company he had been given Tran's contract and built the Pepperwood series up to what it is today…Well, now that she thinks about it, maybe that's why he's nervous. Nick doesn't bring anyone with him on his meets with Tran. It's like his number one rule. That and never go in his office when he's not there.

A few days ago, when word got out that she was going with Nick to meet Tran, her co-worker, Big Bob, had given her a hushed retelling of the _one_ time he brought a person to the meet, a co-worker he'd been dating. A Karaloo, or Coraline, or something like that. Apparently it was a disaster and afterward there were contract disputes, a very public break-up and a delay in the book release for the first time in the series…all of it sounded very dramatic.

"I hope he likes the cover we put together. Do you think I could ask him about the next book? Is that too fan-ish? Will it freak him out if I show him the picture of my boxed collection? I really want to ask him about Carole, and why he had her turned in to a zombie in the last book…"

"No!" Nick shouts. "No to all that, but especially the Carole part. Got it?"

"Okaaaay." Nick's grumpiness was beginning to temper her enthusiasm. And his nerves were seeping in to her system as well. Slumping in her seat, she opens the blue folder containing the cover prints and other marketing materials. She flips through it all, making sure she hasn't forgotten anything. She hears Nick sigh heavily.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just…he's not going to be what you expect, ok. And he's really important to the company and we can't lose this contract."

"…What's he like?" As she asks, she glances down to his mouth to see it twitching into a half-smile before leveling into a straight line as he answers.

"He's…nice. Great storyteller…I don't know…he's a friend."

Jess can feel the corners of her mouth pull up into what she has secretly deemed, her 'Nick Miller' smile. When he catches it out of the corner of his eyes, he clears his throat.

"But more importantly, he's our number one contract so again, please let me do all the talking."

"You're in charge, Miller!" She nods, doing a quick salute.

"Thanks, sergeant."

* * *

A calm, pudgy, Vietnamese man with a deep voice (if he chooses to speak at all) is definitely not what she expects the great novelist, Tran, to be…but it's what's in front of her.

She discovers he is a man of very few words with a steady, unyielding gaze. He lives in a little ranch, the backyard surrounded by a black fence lined with vast vegetable gardens and an old barn with lime-green trimmed windows. Nick speeds through introductions and Tran simply nods in greeting before motioning them out to his backyard to a picnic table set with a wide variety of fruits, vegetables and herbs. Jess stands in awe for a moment, taking in the massive garden and all the smells emitting from it. She'd love nothing more than to slip off her shoes and go exploring among the tangled plants but a frustrated Nick, whispering a harsh, "Jess," breaks her out of the daydream.

They sit and Nick immediately grabs some fruit, clearly comfortable in the environment. She feels a little shaky and immediately forgets the rule of 'let Nick do the talking.'

"So, Mr. Tran…er….Tran…sir…we have several options for covers, all in the standard 'Pepperwood' template…" She moves to open the blue folder but a spotty, wrinkled hand stops her the same time she hears a frustrated, "Jess, what did I say?"

Tran gently extracts the folder from her, placing it on the table over some ripe red tomatoes, and takes both her hands in his, pulling her up to her feet. They start towards the garden and she turns wide eyes to Nick who is busy popping strawberries into his mouth. He glances her way and waves his hand, indicating she should go with the flow.

She happily turns back, obediently following Tran through the rows as he points out various sprouting flowers and ripening vegetables. She crouches at different herbs to smell the leaves and she loses her sense of time. Eventually, after picking at a beautiful strawberry bush, she realizes Tran is no longer with her and glances over to the picnic table to see him in deep discussion with Nick, though it looks like Nick is doing most of the talking. Feeling a little miffed at being left out she quickly makes her way back.

Once she reaches the table, the conversation ceases and she gives Nick a tight smile. Tran however retains his gentle look and reaches for Jess's blue folder. Too eager for his feedback, Jess forgets her displeasure at being left out and quickly sits down on the bench next to Nick.

"So what we did there was put Julius to the back in shadow, with his hat covering his face echoing his current state of mind. He's still obviously depressed and in mourning over losing Carole-"

"I wouldn't say that, Jess."

"Nick, I'm trying to explain-"

"Pepperwood is totally over Carole, he's in the shadows because it's safe there and he's spying on zombies."

"No, Nick, did you even read-"

"Of course I read it!"

Nick snatches the printed images out of Tran's hand, who doesn't seem to mind, watching the two bickering adults in front of him.

"Look at him Jess, he's focused and detecting, not crying over some zombified chick he slept with."

"He was in love with her!" She replies incredulously. "There are three books detailing their relationship."

"No he-"

"If I may," Tran's steady voice cuts in, "I like this cover." He pulls out one of the images from Nick's grip and hands it to Jess. "Now we may move on," he says calmly.

Jess eyes Nick who is glaring steadily at her before turning her attention back to Tran as he flips through the rest of the folder.

Two more hours of discussion…ok some might consider it arguing between her and Nick while Tran snaps green beans…. And most of the essential marketing decisions Tran had to make are complete.

The author rises from the table to walk around and stand in front of her.

"Thank you for joining me here, Ms. Day. It's been a pleasure. It seems as though Mr. Miller has found a worthy partner in crime."

Jess can feel the blush spread across her cheeks. "The pleasure has been entirely mine, Tran."

He smiles and then slowly extends a hand to her face. Her eyes widen and she fights the instinct to recoil but then his hand gently brushes her cheek and she sees some dirt crumbles fall into her lap. _Oh my God, she must have had dirt smudged all over her cheek from when she had been absentmindedly playing with the beet roots on the table and then touching her face._

Slightly mortified, Jess laughs softly and brings her own hand to her cheek to finish brushing off the dirt.

"Until next time," Tran says, benevolent smile still in place; he bows slightly and turns towards his gardens.

As soon as he walks away she glances over at Nick to gage his reaction and looks to his mouth.

_Bingo_. She catches the fond smile he tries to cover up, and with a small satisfied smile on her own face, Jess rises from the picnic table, folder in hand.

After one last strawberry, Nick rises as well, carrying a thick brown accordion folder Jess hadn't noticed before.

"Is that a manuscript for the next book?" They make their way through Tran's front door.

"No."

"Well, what is it? I should take a look if we're doing Pepperwood together now." Once they're in the car Nick turns to her with very serious eyes, hands clutching the brown folder.

"You will not touch, you will not open, and you will not think about this folder. You will most definitely never ever look at the contents of this folder. Understood?"

She rolls her eyes. "How am I supposed to contribute when you won't let me see any of the information?!"

"I'll give you what you need to know!" He responds.

"Nick, you've given me minimal information and such menial tasks that I'm about to go out of my mind with boredom. I'm really good, I can help you! All those nights you stay late, you don't have to do that now!"

"What are you talking about? I gave you the cover. That's huge!" He yells.

"The Pepperwood series has had the same cover template for fifteen years. That was hardly a challenge."

"Well maybe you should ask Big Bob for more challenging things or how about Sanders, you and him get along great."

Holy crap and a half, he's jealous. This ridiculous man-child is jealous of her relationships with her co-workers. She's not even going to acknowledge his idiocy and with a huff, turns forward and crosses her arms, holding her blue folder tightly to her chest but then freezes.

"Uh oh." Tran is standing in front of their car, with a basket full of garden items (so that's where all those baskets in Nick's office come from), that same gentle smile on his face; but now there looked to be a mysterious twinkle in his eyes as they darted between the two of them.

Nick swears under his breath as he rolls down the window to accept the offering.

"Thanks, Tran. I'll call ya," he says gruffly.

Tran simply nods and turns toward his front door.

"No more talking," Nick says tiredly as he drops the basket into her lap.

She picks out a fresh strawberry and nods in agreement, her mind stuck on the mysterious brown folder sitting on top of a wrinkled flannel shirt in the back seat.


	3. Chapter 3

_Nick_

The "Pepperwood and the Hollow Corpse" book release goes off without a hitch and the ensuing congratulatory party the office throws has few surprises. Nick observes the usual shenanigans of photo-copied butt shots, Leo drinking too much then hitting on everything in the office, be it male, female, or office plant, and rolling chair races (his team wins, obviously).

A week later, he sits in his office, face in hands, attempting to massage a headache away. He just spent the last fifteen minutes verbally sparring with Russell, a snakey literary agent that's been sniffing after Tran for years (Nick is Tran's unofficial agent). Guy has a deep gravely voice that sounds like he sits in an office of mahogany with a tumbler of brandy on the desk and a cigar in hand as he makes great decisions for literary or world betterment. Nick always wavers between admiration and despise during their conversations.

Unwillingly his stressed mind begins to bring up memories from the party last week. There weren't any dramatics…but one occurrence is still plaguing him.

Jess being Jess obviously got everyone "Happy Successful Book Release" presents. For Leo she had framed the New York Times article praising the latest novel with the headline 'He's back! Pepperwood spies another success!' It now proudly hangs on his "Wall of Fame" (the wall in his office dedicated to successful releases - most of them Pepperwood related). Big Bob and the other office drones proudly display their personalized bobble-heads she'd made (who is this chick? Martha Stewart on crack?).

But his gift he keeps hidden…because seeing it constantly would only piss him off due to the memory it triggers.

******…...1** week ago…...

The party had been winding down and he slipped back into his office to check on an e-mail from Tran. He switched on the dusty green desk lamp versus the glaring fluorescent lights which would have given him a headache and ruined his happy drunken state. Swaying slightly he bent to read the message and quickly typed a response before looking up to see Jess standing in the doorway, a black, glossy shopping bag in her hands.

"Can I come in?"

_No. _"Sure." _Crap._

He didn't want her in his office, her perfume always filled the room and lingered for hours after she left and he wasn't sure if that made him angry or anxious. Angry because he liked his office to smell manly and intimidating. Anxious because as soon as the smell faded he found himself missing it, taking deep breaths to try and find it again.

But honestly, he especially didn't want her here because of his level of inebriation. When he was this lit, all her attributes he normally forced himself to find annoying suddenly became endearing…and he tended to notice her clothes more. A simple 'blue dress' becomes 'her legs look like they go on forever until they disappear under the skirt of the almost too short, blue dress.'

Said blue dress was now sitting in the chair directly across from him. He remained standing, leaning on his hands until her eyes widened in an expression that said, "Ya gonna sit?" so he flopped down into the leather seat.

Her eyes shone bright from all the pink wine she had been drinking.

"Were you e-mailing Tran?"

"Jess, what did I say about being-"

"Nosy. I know, I know, it's just…you had the Tran wrinkle."

The corners of his mouth turned down. "The what?"

Jess looked embarrassed at what she'd just said but seeing as it had slipped out decided to elaborate. "Oh, it's nothing. Just something I noticed…whenever you talk to Tran, by phone, e-mail or in person, you get this eyebrow scrunch going." She rubbed at the spot between her own eyebrows, brushing the ends of her bangs.

He just stared at her, lips still pressed together with the corners down.

"And that's your 'I don't understand or agree with you, Jess' look," she said under her breath fidgeting in her seat.

Now feeling guilty, he rolled his eyes and leaned to his left, pulling open the bottom drawer of his desk, removing the flask and shot glass he kept stored underneath a few worn brown accordion folders.

"You did good, Day," he said as he poured out a shot of amber liquid. "Not sure this would have gotten out before the deadline if not for you."

It was Jess's turn to roll her eyes as she stood to take the offered glass. "It's weird hearing a compliment come out of your mouth. Go back to being a curmudgeon."

He shrugged and stood as well, tapping her shot glass with his flask before taking a healthy swig. Jess downed her shot and immediately sputtered and coughed with a few 'blegh's' thrown in.

"Oh come on, ya ninny. Tighten up!" She laughed as she gave one last shake of her head in revulsion.

"That's more like it," she choked out. "…I have a gift for you."

He sighed deeply. "Yeah, I was hoping you skipped me."

"Nope!" She turned and reached for the black bag, showing a tantalizing expanse of thigh as the blue dress rode up. He heard the rustle of tissue paper before she turned back to face him with her hands behind her back. "Close your eyes."

He swallowed heavily. "No."

"Please?" She was giving him the wide eyes. It was useless. He closed his eyes then heard her soft footfalls on the carpet. She was moving around his desk to stand next to him. A gentle touch on his left arm indicated he should turn so that he was facing her once again. He swayed and took hold of her elbow to steady himself as she chuckled. She pulled her arm free and from the sudden rush of her perfume filling his nose, he could tell she had leaned toward him. He quickly closed off the scent by not inhaling but then felt her breath rush across his face. He knew it would smell strongly of whiskey with a subtle fruity undercurrent from the wine. He was about to breathe in deeply to see if he was right when a heavy weight fell on his head.

"Open!" His eyelids rose slowly, as if he was coming out of a pleasant dream to see her excited face less than a foot from his. He said nothing as he steadily held her gaze, eyes darting from one blue iris to the other. The silence was heavy in the dimly lit office and Jess's smile slowly faded as she licked her lips.

"What do you think?" she whispered. He broke eye contact to look at the lips she was now abusing with her teeth.

The alcohol in his veins was making everything move at a glacial pace and he knew his decision-making ability, strike that, his good decision-making ability was non-existent. He leaned toward her-

"Whoa, Miller, thas a great hat, man," Leo slurred from the doorway.

Closing his eyes tightly, Nick turned to face the newcomer. He could see in the reflection from the glass walls the hat was a replica of Pepperwood's detective fedora. Reaching up, he removed the hat before tossing it on his desk.

"Day, there's a Sam downstairs. Security won't let anyone up since it's after-hours."

"Oh!" A blush spread from her cheeks down her neck. "Thanks, Leo." She stepped back around the desk to grab the empty black bag, not looking at Nick.

"Hey, Jess." She stopped and turned at the doorway next to Leo who began eyeing the deep cut of her dress. _Back the fuck off, dude._"Thanks. This is…great," he motioned to the hat.

She smiled that secret smile he'd only seen directed at him. "Count yourself lucky I didn't go the Sherlock Holmes route, Miller." With a quiet "See ya," to Leo, she was gone.

He snorted to himself, then grimaced at the image of him in a deerstalker. Leo was watching her walk down the long hall to the right of his office towards the elevators. A question was burning in his mind and he knew he never would have uttered it had he not been so hammered. But quick consumption inspires loose lips…plus he wanted Leo to stop looking at her.

"Hey, Leo, d'ya know if it was a girl version of Sam or a guy version?"

"No idea," Leo said dismissively. "Hey," he pointed at Nick. "Those Heisler's aren't gonna drink themselves. Get back out here…And bring that hat."

* * *

He had ended up sleeping in it that night, drunk and bent over his desk, head on his arms, hat askew. That had been a rough morning. He remembers his last semi-coherent thought had been something along the lines of how awesome a P.I. he'd be and that his first case would be to find out which version of Sam Jess had picking her up.

For the hundredth time that week, Nick groans into his hands as his mind tries to bring up the memory of the heat of her body standing so close to his in this very spot. Her scent burning his nostrils, the whiskey warm in his stomach, a black curl wrapped around her shoulder like some exotic snake, the blood flowing to her lips, making them plump and red where she bit it.

He jerks in his seat as the shrill sound of his phone ringing crumbles the memory from his mind. He clears his throat.

"This is Miller."

"What are your thoughts on a female assistant?"

Tran's calm and steady question seems to paralyze him.

"You've already been thinking it, haven't you?"

Nick's loud and petulant groan is his only response as Tran's laughter echoes over the phone.


	4. Chapter 4

_Jess_

He's staying late again. She can't say how many times he's done it.

It's been pretty quiet the past three weeks. The office has finally come down from the book-release high it's been milking. Time to get back on track and focus on other projects. That means Jess isn't spending nearly the same amount of time with Nick as she had been. And if she's honest with herself (which she's been avoiding), she misses it. Misses him. Their interactions have just been so minimal and menial lately. Now that she's gotten a glimpse of the real, passionate Nick Miller, she wants more. But he stays closed up in his office pretty much the second he arrives until who knows when.

She tries not to think about that moment in his office, really she does. The details of it are foggy but she vaguely recalls that her drunken mind had thought it would be a good idea to put the hat on his head versus handing it to him like any normal gift-giving person would. That decision turned out to be a terrible one when he had looked down at her with this expression on his face…like he was dreaming…and she's not sure of this detail, considering her level of inebriation at the time, but she could have sworn he had begun to lean toward her…

She shakes her head, ridding herself of the memory. Picking up her travel mug she makes her way to the kitchen to rinse it out.

As she turns on the sink, her phone begins to vibrate.

"Hey, Sam."

She swirls her finger in spilled drops of coffee as she listens.

"Tonight? I don't know…yeah….yep…." She cradles her phone between her ear and shoulder as she tries to pry the top of her mug off. These things are always super suctioned and it drives her crazy.

She sighs, "Ok, yep. I'll see you tonight."

"Big plans…" A surprised squeal escapes her mouth and the raucous from her dropping the mug and phone drowns out his words. "…tonight?"

"Jesus, Day, you're a mess." Nick sets his mug on the counter top before squatting with some paper towels to wipe up the spilled drops of tea.

Reaching under the refrigerator where the cap had slid, she groans in disgust as she pulls it out, covered in dust, hair, crumbs and a mysterious black goo.

They both rise at the same time and turn towards the counter, he has the mug and her phone in his hands and she blasts the sink scrubbing the cap clean, holding back her gags as the hair and mystery goo swirl down the drain.

"Didn't mean to scare ya."

"Oh, no, it's fine."

"So, big plans tonight?" He asks as he sets up the keurig machine.

Tearing some paper towel, she dries her hands before sticking the cap back onto her mug. "Yes, well, no, not really."

He snorts as he hands her phone back.

"Thanks," she meets his eyes and an awkward silence fills the room. Nick's mouth is slightly open as if a question is waiting to fall out but a muffled gurgle from the sink breaks the tension and Nick reaches for his now full cup of coffee.

"What are you working on?"

"Nothing…just a bunch of stuff," he turns away, heading for the doorway.

"Need any help?" The hope is clear in her voice.

He turns and his mouth twitches. "I'm good, Day. Get out of here."

She waits until he leaves the kitchen to deflate.

* * *

There's a small FedEx box on her desk Thursday morning. She had left early yesterday so the receptionist must have dropped it off after she'd gone. She's at the office extra early to make up for it and fantasizes about the warm cup of coffee she'll momentarily be brewing as she rips open the missive.

Deciding between a black coffee mood or cream and sugar she peers into the box to see a hardcover book inside. Upending the box, the book slides out into her hand. It's a copy of the latest Pepperwood novel. Curious and confused, seeing as she already has several copies stacked on her desk, she peels open the cover to see an inscription inside…an inscription designated to Nick. Double checking the address on the fedex box to see if it was indeed mailed to her attention instead of Nick's, she confirms it is her name on the label. Brow furrowing, she focuses on the book in her hands.

All thoughts of coffee evaporate as her foggy morning mind comprehends the words before her. Tran's slanted scroll stretches across the inside cover and it takes all of the willpower she can muster to snap the book closed. Judging by the first two lines, this was a very private message meant only for Nick's eyes…but why the heck was it mailed to her? Mulling over her options, she grips the book in her arms, pressing it to her chest. _To read or not to read, that is the question._

Releasing a petulant groan she turns from her desk in the direction of Nick's office. Either way she's super excited for Nick to see Tran's personal message, maybe he'll even let her watch as he reads it…doubtful but a girl can hope.

She arrives at his office, originally planning to slip the book into his mail box mounted outside his door (he had it installed to decrease his already minimal public interactions) but discovers his office door is wide open, which was odd, seeing as he usually has it closed and locked up tighter then Fort Knox. An idea occurs to her to set the book on his desk standing up so that it's the first thing he sees when he arrives. It would definitely get lost among all the packets on his desk if she just set it there and she's 90% sure he doesn't even read anything that's put in his mailbox.

Peeking in, she sees that it's empty and takes slow tentative steps into the office. His entire office is a mess of books stacked on book cases lining the walls, papers of various manuscripts taped to walls and post-it notes stuck pretty much everywhere. In fact as she passes the chair set in front of his desk, a post-it note sticks to her skirt. She peels it off, glancing at the massage and sighing with amusement/exasperation (_Put on pants?). _

Leaning over his desk, she stands the book up, but considering the uneven surface of notepads, 2 pens and what looks like half a soft pretzel, the book topples over to the ground.

"Damn." Glancing behind her to see if the 'Grumpy one' is in sight, she sees no one and rounds the desk quickly. Standing with the book she once again stands it up on his desk but thoughts of balancing it vanish once she catches some of the words splayed on the pages in front of her. Curse her excellent eyesight.

She doesn't snoop, she swears. Tries to keep her nosiness in check and is successful most of the time. But there are moments when she…how to put it…..happens upon things. And the brown folder happens to be on his desk and happens to have it's contents spread out on said desk…so she simply doesn't happen to look away.

Raking over the pages her heart starts to pound as she realizes what she's stumbled upon. Here was the next Pepperwood novel outline! Unable to look away, she fails to notice the book fall over once again, this time knocking the mouse, deactivating the screen saver.

Her breath gets stuck in her throat as she reads from the screen.

_"Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my office!?"_

_"I'm Jessica Knight," big eyes the color of a sky he hadn't seen in far too long swung to him. Putting away the file she'd been reading, the intruder stuck out a small pale hand. "When do we get started?_"

"What the hell are you doing in my office?!" Jess nearly jumps out of her skin as she raises wide, glassy eyes to see Nick glaring molten hatred at her from the doorway.

"I…I w-was…" she stutters as he quickly rounds his desk and shuts his computer screen off.

Taking in his appearance she surmises that he slept at the office again. The white Henley he's wearing is unbuttoned and wrinkly, his dark hair curled and sticking up at wild angles and an impressive stubble coats his cheeks and neck.

"What the fuck, Jess! What's my one rule!"

"I was just-"

"Being fuckin nosey, like always!" His voice steadily rises in volume and the scratchiness from fatigue brings a unique menace to it.

"I'm sor-"

"Get out!"

She leaves the book where it fell and hustles around the opposite side of the desk from Nick, eyes cast down. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she moves through the office headed straight for the bathrooms.

Once inside, she grips her hands together leaning heavily against the door. She raises wide eyes to the mirror on the opposite wall, her expression one of shell-shocked amazement.

Not only was Nick Miller ghostwriting the Pepperwood novels…but he had written her into the story.


	5. Chapter 5

_Nick_

"Miller, my office, 10 minutes." Nick slams the phone down so hard it rattles out of the cradle and the drone of the dial tone fills the office.

_Fucking fuck fuck shit fuck._

That about covers his state of mind for the past week.

Ever since Jess found out about his 'not so little secret' he hasn't been able to stop sweating. He had kept his authoring ways under lock and key since day one and the only time it had almost been revealed was in a last ditch effort to save a disastrously doomed relationship (good thing Tran talked him out of it).

What's weird is he's normally a horrible secret-keeper. He begs off any conversation when it turns to gossip and if there's ever a need to lie or fib or whatever, don't count on him. He will sweat profusely and speak incoherently until the situation is resolved.

But with this secret…the biggest of his life…it's like he owns it, he's in charge of it and therefore able to contain it. But now that it's out in the world, specifically in the mind of a chatty, spunky, know-it-all girl in thick-rimmed glasses and colorful skirts…he's unable to combat the normal secret-keeping symptoms. He's been a mess, missing important client calls, remaining silent in conference meetings, pretty much ignoring everyone in the office, but especially the one person who could ruin his life.

If he was thinking straight he'd notice that she's been avoiding him as well.

The worst part is that he doesn't even know how much she saw that day in his office. How long had she been in there? When he saw her, she had been reading from the screen. How far had she read? Did she see all of the information from the brown folder on his desk? Maybe she didn't make the connection between the documents and him. Nick knows how outrageous that hope is. Jess is a clever girl and if the look on her face was anything to go by, she got it, loud and clear.

Tran was useless. He'd driven to the old man's house over the weekend.

_"She knows." Nick said as he mutilated another string bean._

_Tran hummed as he gently extracted the vegetable from Nick's hand but said nothing._

_"That's it? You got nothing? Tran, the biggest secret of my life is about to be plastered across every literary news outlet out there and you hum!?"_

_Tran gave him a look and shook his head. Clearly he didn't believe Jess was going to reveal what she knew._

_"Well then what's my move with Jess?"_

_Tran's answer was a smile._

Crazy, zen old man was no help at all and Jess was obviously biding her time to spill his secret; waiting for a moment with the most dramatic impact. God dammit, he knew he shouldn't have trusted that girl. His first instinct had been right all along.

Well, apparently the moment had arrived, taking a quick swig from his flask he rises. As he leaves his office (sure to lock the door behind him) his eyes involuntarily dart to Jess's desk, discovering it empty, her computer turned on but with no screensaver, meaning she probably just stepped away.

Trudging up to Leo's office, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for his probable firing.

First thing he sees when he opens the door is the back of Jess's dark brown head, the long waves spilling down over the chair. Gritting his teeth, he refuses to look at her and slumps into the open chair next to her.

_This is it. Secret's out. Nick Miller is Pepperwood, Pepperwood is Nick Miller. There won't be any need for a detective to figure out his death. No mystery in jumping off a bridge out of humiliation._

"Alright, dream team," Leo exclaims as he puts the packet he was reading down. "I have just learned some exciting news!"

The big guy, who looks like a Russian Bond villain today in his navy blue suit stretched across his rather impressive girth and shiny bald head, moves some papers around his desk before unearthing a brown envelope.

Nick can't keep his legs from bouncing as he watches, in what feels like slow motion, Leo pull a white sheet of paper from the envelope and begin to read.

"Dear Clyde Co. Publishing, blah blah blah, pleased to inform, blah blah, the latest Pepperwood novel, "Pepperwood and the Hollow Corpse," as been awarded The 2013 Edgar for 'Best Novel.' Please inform us of Tran's attendance to accept blah blah blah…"

Nick can see out of his periphery that Jess is sitting on the edge of her seat. Up until Leo read the letter, she hadn't looked his way once. Now he can practically feel her eyes burning into his skin.

"Pepperwood hasn't received the Edgar for 5 years so this is great news team, let's see some enthusiasm!"

"Yeah, it's great, Leo…" Nick says as he runs a hand over his face, avoiding Jess's stare. "Listen-"

"Now, as we all know, Tran doesn't attend the award ceremonies and delegates someone to go in his place," Leo plows on.

A sick feeling begins to twist Nick's stomach and the sweat already peppering his hairline becomes full on streams.

"For this award, he's chosen the dream team to attend! So pack your bags kiddies, you're headed to New York City!"

* * *

It's 10:30 at night and Nick is standing in the security line at LAX preparing himself for the red-eye to JFK. Tran has 'conveniently' gone MIA so he was unable to talk some sense into the infuriating old man and get out of going to this fucking awards ceremony. At the very least he was kind enough to provide an acceptance speech he had mailed to Jess so they wouldn't have to come up with something on their own.

He's able to avoid her during the wait to board the plane by hiding out at the bar, miserably sucking down a few Heislers. Maybe he should get absolutely hammered so that he'll pass out on the plane, effectively avoiding any chance she'll have at getting (demanding) answers from him.

That plan is shot to hell as "Flight 0863 to JFK, now boarding," comes over the loudspeaker.

* * *

5 Hours 45 minutes to JFK.

She lasts 6 ½ minutes once they're in the air before asking her first question.

"How does it wor-"

"Did you read the speech?" He interrupts. If a conversation has to happen, he decides he's going to be in control of it.

"No, I've been given very specific instructions from Tran."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jess is silent for a beat before turning in her seat to face him. "Are we gonna talk about this?"

"Talk about what, Jess?" He remains facing forward, but glances at her quickly.

Jess's response is a look that clearly says, 'You know what.'

_Just lie Nick. People lie all the time. Every second. Lies make the world go round (yeah he has issues with Copernicus)._

The sweat pooling in his low back is going to make for an uncomfortable plane ride. He turns towards her, leaning heavily on the arm rest. "There are things that you can't…It's not a simple thing of who….let me start over…I'm not-"

"Would either of you like a soda, juice, water or coffee? We offer alcoholic beverages if you'd like to peruse through our in-flight menu in the seat pocket in front of you. We only accept credit cards."

Nick could kiss the stewardess for the interruption. He proceeds to burn as much time as he can by asking inane questions regarding the menu, the plane, the pilots, where she grew up. After a polite but strained rebuff the stewardess moves on down the aisle. He only got 7 minutes out of the exchange.

5 Hours 27 minutes to JFK. Crap.

They get their refreshments (hers, a ginger ale, his, a jack and coke) and he concentrates on not staring at her. One, because of the straw currently cushioned between her lips, slowly being drawn deeper into her mouth and two, she'll take it as encouragement to continue talking.

He gets ten minutes of blissful silence before she slams her empty cup on the tray table in frustration, startling the poor old man sleeping in front of her.

"We have to talk about this!"

"No, Jess, we don't."

"But-"

"It's not what you think, ok, and that's all I'm gonna say."

"But you're-"

"Am I gonna have to yell bomb on this plane to get you to shut up?"

"You wouldn't," she narrows her eyes at him.

He takes a deep breath as if about to yell.

"…..Bo-kay you're right I won't."

She gives a little smile of triumph and then gears up for another attack when he feels a presence over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, sir, ma'am" the perky stewardess bends down so that she's uncomfortably close to his face. "We've received some complaints from your fellow passengers. If you could keep your voices down, we sure would appreciate it. This is a red-eye flight after all."

"Yeah, sure," Nick says.

"Well thank you so much, and thank you for flying United."

Nick gives a little wave and releases a heavy breath once she walks away.

"Jess, I'm begging you…Let's just get some sleep, get the stupid award and get back home. I'd really prefer as minimal interaction and conversation as possible." He's playing the asshole card. He didn't want to, but unfortunately he plays it well and desperate times, desperate measures.

"Well then this trip is going to be a real pain in the butt for you, Miller," the asshole card does not seem to be having an effect on Jess…and it baffles him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you even look at the itinerary?" She asks as she pulls out a clearly organized plastic folder.

"No," Nick scoffs as he reaches for an envelope labeled Tran.

"Well," she smacks his hand away, "it looks like Clyde Co. Publishing was unwilling to stretch the budget for this little trip. They put us in the same room at The Hotel."

Nick's heart seizes a bit at the thought of sharing a room with her but outwardly he plays it cool. "Our hotel is called 'The Hotel?'"

Jess shrugs, "I guess it was the cheapest in the area."

"Look, Jess, it's no big deal. When we get there, I'll get another room."

* * *

"I'm so sorry, sir, but there are no rooms available. I can provide a list of other hotels in the area if you'd like." The overly perky hotel desk lady gives him a scarily wide smile. He can only glare back. The universe is seriously conspiring against him.

He opens his mouth to tell her exactly what he'd like (a sawed off shot-gun and a bottle of Jack both to be put in his mouth immediately) when a tug at his arm derails him.

"Nick," Jess's voice is scratchy and there are some pretty dark circles under eyes. Looks like neither of them got any sleep on the plane. "We're adults. Let's just go up to the room, it'll be fine. I'm fine with it."

He shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

"Besides, I'm in desperate need of a nap if I'm supposed to function at this ceremony….please?"

Damn those blue eyes.

* * *

They shuffle into the room and Nick throws his stuff down on one of the double beds (he had half-expected there to be only one king bed but was (hugely) relieved to see two), and flops face first onto the starchy pillows. He's suddenly aware of how exhausted he is and knows it'll only take a few moments to fall asleep. He cracks an eye open when he hears the closet door open.

Jess hangs her garment bag and begins unzipping her small suitcase; she pulls out a colorful toiletry bag and heads for the bathroom. The tension in the room is practically vibrating and he can't stand it. This isn't normal. One person should not have such an unexplainable hold on him, so he closes his eyes against it.

Sleep remains elusive; he's unable to turn off the part of his senses still focused on Jess and what she's doing once she emerges from the bathroom. When he hears her give a soft huff from somewhere near his feet he cracks an eye open again to see her staring at the garment bag that he carelessly threw on the bed next to his beat up messenger bag to his left. She glances at his face and he closes his eye quickly, feigning sleep.

He feels the bag shift along his left leg as she pulls it off the bed. He thinks it's safe to peek again and catches the small exasperated smile on her lips as she turns to deposit it in the closet next to hers. The corner of his own lips lift and once Jess settles into her own bed he's finally able to drift off.

* * *

Nick wakes to a silent room. Attempting to rub away the heaviness from his eyes he slowly sits up, swinging his legs to the ground. Still half-asleep, he walks to the bathroom taking in the sinks to his left, the shower to his right. Like a zombie, he shuffles to his left and turns on the sink but freezes when the shower curtain behind him pulls back at the exact same time.

_Ohhhh shiiittt. _His eyes focus and finally notice the steamy room and patchy condensation on the mirror. He forgot. He's not in his own hotel room…he's sharing….with Jess…who just showered.

There's no screaming. He's staring and she's wide-eyed and unblinking right back at him.

It's as if all sound has been sucked out of the room by a vacuum. The mirror is rapidly drying as the steam and heat escape through the open bathroom door and steadily, more of her is revealed through the fog.

Every inch of him is taut and he realizes his mind seems to be holding his own straining body at bay.

He wants to turn. Wants to look at the real thing head-on versus a half-blurred reflection. And then he wants to do a hell of a lot more than look. He wants to touch, lick, taste. Wants to make her wet in an entirely different way.

His eyes follow a drop of water as it trails from her clavicle down the valley of her breasts before it slows near her belly button. His eyes dip lower and he unconsciously sucks his lips in, rubbing them together before darting back to her face where her mouth has dropped open slightly.

"Fuck," he says under his breath as he drops his head and rushes for the door, closing it loudly behind him.

He's going to need a barrel of scotch to erase the image away.

* * *

After an hour at the hotel bar in wrinkly clothes and wild bed head he figures he's given her enough time to dress and do all the girly shit girls need to do. He's got 2 tumblers of scotch in him which he hopes will lessen the blow for whatever's about to happen. In the elevator heading back to the room, he tries to predict how the impending confrontation is going to play out. He expects a slap, maybe some screaming, he hopes not but there might be tears, maybe a sexual harassment lawsuit. Oh God. Why was his life spiraling out of control?!

Staring at the door he takes a deep breath and prepares for the worst.

What he gets is dead silence. The room is empty but her bag is still here so she hasn't left to take the next flight back to LA.

He notices his garment bag has been hung on the outside of the closet door with piece of paper folded over the shoulder.

_Hey Nick,_

_Since you haven't come back for yet I figure (hope) your plan is to just meet me at the Grand Hyatt? I'm going to check out the New York Public Library and Bryant Park since it's on the way. Text me when you're close? I have Tran's speech._

_Jess_

"Of course she's at the friggin library," he says under his breath. Tossing the note away he heads for the bathroom for a quick shower, the stationary fluttering silently to the ground behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Jess_

Well the hits just keep on coming.

First she's gob smacked by a bombshell of a secret, next she can't get any answers out of Nick, who's turned into a twitchy sweaty mess, then Pepperwood is awarded an Edgar it hasn't received in 5 years; and last but not at all least, Mr. Nick Miller gets an eyeful of her in all her glory. Things are stellar and 100% not awkward.

She sighs as she traces her fingers along the glass casing to the exhibited photographs, texts and other objects in the gallery. Walking along, careful to keep the clack of her heals muted she thinks on the tiny piece of information Nick did reveal on the plane.

_"It's not what you think, Jess."_

Well what the heck does that mean? And, come to think of it, what does she think? Maybe Nick and Tran write it together? Maybe Tran writes it all and uses Nick for ideas? Well then whose idea was it to put a character with her namesake and physical attributes in? So, what, Tran meets people, listens to a few details about their personal life and then steals it all for story ideas?

Brushing her bangs to the side, she thinks on the few times she had visited Tran's home and throughout the day (when Nick was out of ear shot) had unwittingly revealed all kinds of details from her personal life: her dads overbearing nature and general melancholy, her mom's inability to see her as an adult, her sister's general failure at everything, and worst of all her dismal love life and failed relationships.

What if she gets a glimpse of the next manuscript and it's all in there along with a mystery and the undead!? Horrors upon horrors.

Rattled out of her scrambled thoughts by the vibrating phone in her clutch, she pauses to read the text from Nick.

_On corner W 42nd & AveAmerica. Let's go._

Staring at her wide-eyed reflection in the plexi-glass, she takes a deep breath. "You can handle this. You're a tiger. Be the tiger. He saw you naked. Not a big deal. Let's do this, Jessica Day." Giving her reflected self a high five on the glass she turns towards the exit, giving a sheepish smile to the couple openly staring at her as she passes.

It's unseasonably warm for May in New York City. Jess appreciates the heat from the late-afternoon sun caressing her arms as she makes her way along the weaving path to where Nick is waiting.

As much as she's dreading this moment she can't help the smile that lifts her lips as she catches sight of him on the sidewalk. He's shifting on his feet, one hand pulling at his tie, the other yanking the back of his pants, dislodging the white dress shirt tucked there. She laughs as he does a little salute to two old ladies passing him on the sidewalk before he refocuses his efforts on tucking his shirt back in his pants.

Task completed he turns to face the park; his eyes immediately land on her and all his fidgeting ceases.

Her heart jumps to her throat and she lifts her arm in a little wave. She's too far away to make out his expression but she can see his eyelids dipping as he takes all of her in and it makes her pulse race.

When she reaches him she runs her hand up her arm as if chilled and can feel the rise of goose bumps on her skin when she finally meets his dark eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey," he echoes and clears his throat. "Whoa, you look great."

"Thanks, you do too." His tie is a little askew and her fingers twitch to reach up and adjust it but she resists.

They stand, facing each other, the sounds of the hectic city surrounding them. When they finally speak again, it's at the same time.

"I'm sorry about earlier-"

"Well I guess we should-"

Jess laughs self-consciously and Nick toes a crack in the sidewalk, a small smile on his face. He rubs the back of his neck before he sighs dramatically and extends his elbow to her.

"Can I escort you to the awards, my lady?"

She snorts but smiles and slips her hand through his crooked arm, relieved that this wasn't as cripplingly awkward as she had feared.

"You may, fancy gentleman-shower peeper."

"Aw come on! I said I was sorry! Half-asleep Nick cannot be held responsible for his actions. He's a totally different guy!"

She laughs as they make their way towards the Hyatt, him spouting out the differences between Awake Nick and Sleeping Nick the whole way; she knows her 'Nick Miller' smile is firmly in place the entire time.

* * *

After applying their name-tags, they head straight for the open bar; Nick hands her a Rosé, he goes with a whiskey on ice. They've only got about fifteen minutes before the ceremony starts so there's not a lot of time to socialize but Jess does her best, meeting three up and coming authors and two high profile editors before the lights flicker for everyone to take their seats.

The Empire ballroom is magnificent with the stage set-up in the middle of the room along the back wall and the thirty-plus, ten-seat round tables spread out parallel to it. Images of the greatest mystery writers appear periodically from a projector around the room in a deep scarlet light. The tables are draped in black linen with huge centerpieces consisting of a variety of flowers in different shades of red. The aura of Poe and his work "The Masque of the Red Death," fills the air with the seventh room the clear inspiration for this year's ceremony.

Jess finds Nick already sitting at their designated table in deep discussion with a fellow guest on the merits of turtles.

"Come on, they're spectacular creatures…"

"We're going to have to agree to disagree, Mr. Miller."

"You don't get it." He leans back against his chair. Jess takes the open seat next to him, back facing the stage (she'll have to turn in her seat for the ceremony, unfortunately) and smiles as she looks over the program cover. It's an image of Edgar Allan Poe with a dialogue bubble saying, "I'm just a Poe boy, nobody loves me," and then a raven perched on his shoulder responds with, "He's just a Poe boy from a Poe family." She clicks open her purse to slip the program inside and pulls out a crisp white envelope.

"Here's the speech from Tran," she hands it to Nick.

"I'm surprised you resisted the urge to open this," he teases, waving the envelope around.

"Ha ha." She says sarcastically and watches his face closely as he tears it open and begins to read, brow furrowing deeper as he skims the page quickly.

In the e-mail from Tran, it said Nick was to be the one to read the speech and she was not to give in to the temptation of reading it before the ceremony. He wanted Jess to appreciate the words in the moment, which she found both curious and sweet. Now, looking at Nick's pale face, she wonders if that had been wise.

"Everything ok?"

Nick crumples the paper in his hands and reaches for his glass of whiskey, downing it in two large gulps.

"Nick!" She exclaims. "What are you doing!?"

"Nothing, I'm just….um, loosening the paper up so it doesn't make those loud crinkling noises in the mic." He smooth's out the paper before crumpling it again. "See? Less noisy."

"That doesn't make any sense. It's going to be harder to read!"

"Don't worry about it, Jess! I'm the reader of the speeches. Me. Let the reader read how he wants to read!"

Jess's jaw drops in complete bafflement but before she can argue further the lights dim and applause fills the room. Nick is staring at her, pale and wild-eyed.

It takes an incredible amount of self-control for her to keep her mouth shut and let Nick do what he needs to do. This whole event is basically his nightmare, so the only thing she can do now is find a shred of empathy for his insane coping methods.

"Ok, Nick," she nods her head. "Do what you gotta do."

His eyebrows scrunch in surprise at her acquiescence before he nods, turning to face the stage as the ceremony begins.

* * *

35 minutes, 5 'Clue' jokes, 6 references to writers and their alcohol dependency, and 3 'Raven' quips later, Tran's award presentation begins.

Jess, finding the whole ceremony an incredible moment, taking in every detail eagerly, failed to notice Nick's slumped posture and the number of empty tumblers on the table until it was too late.

"Nick!" She whispers urgently as the presenter goes into a brief bio on Tran; putting her hand on his shoulder, she tries to turn him towards her, "Are you gonna to be able to do this?"

He shifts his shoulder, brushing off her hand but says nothing. Panic begins to bubble up within her but before she can think what to do, the noise of the crowd distracts her and she realizes the people at the tables surrounding her are facing them with smiles and clapping hands.

She squeaks in surprise as Nick suddenly rises, Tran's letter gripped tightly in his hand, and heads for the stage. Momentarily stunned, she recovers quickly and gets up to follow after him. He bumps into a few chairs on the way up and she holds her breath when he reaches the steps to the stage but he makes it up without issue.

Relief surges through her when he finally reaches the podium, the sound of crinkling paper echoes over the PA system as he smooth's out Tran's letter. _Less noisy my butt, Miller_.

He doesn't meet her eyes when he turns to hand her the statue of Edgar Allan Poe's head. Standing to his right and slightly behind him, clasping the award, she glances down and smiles as she sees, "Pepperwood and the Hollow Corpse," and below that, "Tran," inscribed on the plaque.

"I'm Nick Miller, this is Jessica Day and we're the lucky ones Tran asked to accept this award on his behalf."

Jess gives a small wave to the audience, blushing when it elicits a small chuckle from the crowd and realizes how silly she probably looked. Nick glances back at her and she can see the sweat along his hairline. She gives him a reassuring smile before he faces forward again.

He's got both hands up on the glass podium and refuses to look at the audience. His thumb is steadily rubbing along the side of his pointer finger, gradually picking up speed. It's a nervous habit of his, one she noticed on the plane and during the meeting with Leo.

He seems unable to continue, just staring at the words Tran prepared on the crumpled letter in front of him. Dread and concern bubble up within her and she takes a few tentative steps toward him. He's got his eyes closed now and his shoulders lift defensively; thumb furiously worrying along his pointer finger. Keeping her eyes locked on his face, she gently lays her hand in his and he immediately stills, a small gasp escaping his lips.

His eyes lift and she feels a jolt in her heart when they meet hers. Numerous emotions flash in his eyes but as he grips her hand, the terror and anxiety melt away into gratitude and resignation, his thumb strokes down her fingers before he releases her hand and takes a deep breath.

"I've been working with Tran for a very long time and um, I've had the inside track on his struggle for the past few years. I can tell ya, he has missed seeing this shrunken head of Poe on his shelf. Great mustache." The crowd chuckles and Jess takes a step back to give him his moment to shine. "Allright, luckily Tran provided a…little thank you so you won't have to hear from me anymore."

He looks down at the paper once more, takes a deep breath and dives in.

"Thank you to the readers and online communities who try to solve Pepperwood's mysteries before he does. Your art and enthusiasm will forever astound me and I promise you I have seen, read, and enjoyed it all. To the fans who wanted Carol zombified, you're welcome." Laughter ripples through the crowd and Nick continues.

"To every source of mental, physical, and financial support, it means more to me than you could fathom." Nick seems to stop and think for a moment, one hand rising to wipe at the sweat along his forehead. "I know I may seem to hide on my lonely farm, the way Pepperwood clings to the seclusion of his dark office but I sense…a day is coming that will change all of that."

Jess's eyebrows scrunch in confusion at his words. What was Tran up to?

"Pepperwood's been too long in the dark. It's been pretty bleak for him and um," Nick smooth's his hand down the paper before continuing. "I feel it's finally time for him to see light again. I guess he just needs to meet a new day head on. A day to turn it around. Make him remember why the fight against the mysteries of evil and the undead must always continue. And that the negative experiences of life should not always be taken as losses but knowledge gained. In a world of the undead, you can forget about those still very much alive. And Pepperwood needs reminding. By something or someone."

Something about the words make Jess's heart pound and she bites her lip as she gazes at Nick.

"Thank you for this," he gestures to the statue Jess holds. "This is my reminder. Tells me Pepperwood's story is still important. Still matters. I'll continue to write and, uh, hopefully you'll do me the honor of continuing to read. Thank you. Thanks." Nick raises his right hand in a wave and then speed walks off the stage, hands shoved in his pant pockets. Jess follows after him at a much calmer pace.

Before she reaches the stairs a hand taps her arm. The next presenter gives her Tran's acceptance speech folded up, before turning back to the podium. Nick must have left it there in his urgency to leave the spotlight.

As she reaches their table she sees Nick shake the proffered hands from the other guests sitting with them along with several people from the surrounding tables.

"That was amazing! Tran was so right to demand I not read the speech beforehand!" She says as she grabs a champagne glass from the table and takes a healthy swig.

Nick ignores her, looking into the empty glasses on the table for another drop of whiskey. Coming up empty he lifts his head, craning his neck to find a waiter.

"And you! Your delivery was just so….earnest. Nick you were incredible!"

"Yeah," he says but doesn't look like he's listening. Cursing under his breath he stands.

"Nick! Where-"

"Bathroom," he grunts, loosening his tie as he passes her.

She rolls her eyes at him, too caught up in the exciting atmosphere of the awards to care about his horrible attitude. This was a big moment and he did so well, why he should be all erratic and grumpy is beyond her.

Smiling to herself she leans forward for the speech, wanting to read over Tran's beautiful words again.

She narrows her eyes in confusion as she unfolds the paper, flipping it over to scan the back. It's obviously the paper Nick had brought to the stage from the tale tell signs of wear and tear.

_But…how did he…what…?_ Hot realization washes over her as she whips towards the back of the auditorium, just catching sight of the back of Nick's head as he walks out the double doors.

She grabs her clutch, hastily stuffing The Edgar in, the base of it sticking out as she makes her way to the door; Tran's letter discarded on the table next to their empty glasses.

The 'speech' Tran had written…it didn't exist.

The letter had been blank.


End file.
